Page 7 of Where She Belongs

A pang of longing shot through her body and she gripped the banister at her side. He’d been gone a long time, but the pain of losing him felt suddenly too fresh. Tears pricked her eyes. What would he say about the men Aunt Roxy had found to court her? Would he laugh it off? Or take it seriously?

She didn’t know and that was the hardest part.

Rylee stopped in her childhood bedroom. She’d kept the lights off since there was plenty of sun streaming through the windows. Seated in the warm beam, she rifled through pictures from her childhood. Pictures and mementos she’d left behind because she’d been a mess when her father passed.

One of them stopped her. Three goofy grins. Two identical boys, brown-haired and brown-eyed, in the bed of a pickup, and a girl beside them with messy blonde hair. Nobody else in town could tell those two apart and she never once got it wrong. She touched each of their faces, then turned the picture over.

Jason, Tate, and Ry-Ry. Her father’s neat handwriting followed by the date.

She turned the picture back, staring at it for another long moment before she set it aside and continued going through her things.

Her breath caught when she picked up a small, smooth stone. And another memory flooded her thoughts when she’d been seven years old.

“I just can’t do it,” Rylee mumbled. “I’m not good at anything.”

“You just need the right rock. See? Like this one.” Tate pulled a small, round stone from his pocket. “Touch it, Ry-Ry. It’s flat and smooth. I found this one last year. It’s my favorite.”

Rylee put a finger on it and rubbed. “Wow, Tate,” she whispered, “that is smooth.” It was the most beautiful rock she’d ever seen.

Tate wrapped his hand around the rock and stared at his fist for a moment. Then he held out his hand. “You can have it if you want.”

Her eyes flicked up to his. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He said it soft, and the smile that came with it stayed with her for years.

Even then, she couldn’t bring herself to skip that rock across the little pond on her property. It had become a treasure that she hid away in the little jewelry box Aunt Roxy had given her the year before.

Rylee curled her hand around the stone and closed her eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to those little boys. It had been so long. They’d probably moved away just like she had.

When the box was empty she moved on through the house. Her father’s office had been left alone, the same as her uncle’s in New York. Nothing had been moved. There were probably files and invoices locked away in a folder having to do with the business side of running the farm. There were books on the shelves that ranged from informational texts to fiction novels.

She let her fingers run across the spines as she wandered through her father’s space. She wasn’t ready to go through anything, not that she expected to find much in here. The primary suite of the house was another place she wasn’t prepared to look through. To see her father’s clothes and other signs of him would hit differently now that she was an adult.

She left that room alone. Upstairs again, she stopped under the attic hatch. There used to be a cord hanging off it. She’d been convinced as a child that the attic was haunted.

No cord now. No ladder either, not that she’d come across. There might be one in the barn. Her father had carried boxes up there more than once, and she’d have liked to find out what he’d thought was worth keeping.

A knock on the front door tugged her away from her musings and she hurried down the stairs. She nearly tripped on the last step, her bare foot sliding off the edge but thankfully she had a good grasp on the banister.

She rounded the foot of the stairs, skidded to the door and hauled it open hard enough to send her hair up around her face. Roxanne would have had words about appearances and visitors.

A young woman with long brown hair stood on the doorstep, smiling. Her smile dipped for less than a breath and came back. Perhaps Roxanne had a point.

Out of breath, Rylee leaned against the edge of the door. “Hey. Can I help you?”

The woman held out a Tupperware container. “I heard someone was moving in, and I baked you a treat. A sort of ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ sort of thing.” She glanced around. “Even though it’s not really a neighborhood. We’re just the closest people you’ve got. So, if you need a cup of sugar or someone to help you out of a jam, you can call on us.”

Rylee glanced down at the container and her stomach growled, reminding her that she still needed to head to town for groceries, so she didn’t starve tonight. She accepted the cookies. “Thank you so much. That’s very sweet of you.” She held out her hand. “I’m Rylee.”

“Lydia.” Then she turned and pointed south. “My family lives just down that way. I think there might even be a path that connects our properties.”

Nodding, Rylee grinned. “I noticed that.” She wasn’t about to tell this nice woman that as a child she used that very path to torment the neighborhood boys into playing with her. “I’m sure I’ll get some use out of it this summer.”

“This summer?” Lydia’s smile paused. “You’re not staying?”

Wincing, Rylee shrugged. “That remains to be seen. I’m not certain what will come after this summer, but there’s a possibility I’ll be leaving. I’m from New York.”

Lydia wrinkled her nose and then caught herself doing it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect.” She leaned in, dropping her volume for it. “But between you and me, don’t go telling the folks around here you’re from the city. They’ve got a history with people who move out here and suddenly think they’re cowboys.”